


but they’re just old ghosts that we grow attached to

by ShakyHades



Series: Atlas [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakyHades/pseuds/ShakyHades
Summary: Self-doubt can cast a very long shadow, obscuring our hard-earned achievements while highlighting our shortcomings. It creates a pattern that is hard to fall out off — one impossible to break on our own.





	but they’re just old ghosts that we grow attached to

**Author's Note:**

> Title from You Are Enough, by Sleeping At Last.
> 
> So. Hello, I am not dead! This was kind of a bitch to start/settle on what I wanted to do, and then I took my usual sweet, sweet time writing it, getting caught up on other fandoms all the while. Oops?
> 
> Huge thanks for lots of people are needed: fireflyfish, lilyconrad, my beta YukiYashaH and quite the amount of new friends I made on a writers server. If you already follow Atlas, thank you a lot for your patience as well, and I hope y'all enjoy this!

It's early evening in Coruscant — the last of the sun's rays having just faded over the horizon, barely visible amidst the countless buildings — and in a dimly lit training room inside the Jedi Temple, Anakin Skywalker prepares to restart his katas once more.

He has no idea how many times he’s completed them since he walked in that same room a little after breakfast. There had been a break for lunch and shorter ones for things like water and using the fresher, but aside from those, Anakin had done little else than practice.

In a normal day, he would have had classes to attend and chores to complete, but it was the weekend and Master Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind _when_ his chores were finished, as long as they _were_ done in the first place. Thus, he had the most of the day to spend as he saw fit -- this week it had been his katas, but the last one had been his Force training, and he hadn’t decided what he would do the next one yet.

Anakin is grateful that Master Obi-Wan has been away the entire day. If his Master knew how many hours he had spent training, he’d frown and insist that Anakin stopped to relax for the rest of the day, leaving him torn between his unwillingness to disappoint his Master and his _need_ to keep going.

He finishes his katas with an exhale, drops the ending stance and stands with his back straight. His arms are shaking with exertion and he aches all over -- a hum of annoyance at his own body runs through him at that realization -- and he still wants to continue, but he knows that Master Obi-Wan will be getting home soon and will be worried if Anakin isn’t there.

He wipes his face and neck with the hand towel he’d brought with him and grimaces when he finally realizes just how sweaty he is -- it feels like he’d just left the shower, which in this situation means: _gross._ He ignores the trembling of his limbs and the handful of looks he attracts on the way to the small apartment he shares with his Master.

Anakin makes a beeline towards the fresher for a much needed shower, wishing to erase the evidence of his many hours at the training room before Obi-Wan arrives.

His Master is sitting on the couch when Anakin comes out of the fresher and smiles tiredly up at him -- a feeling Anakin understands and returns. He sits near Obi-Wan, towel slung around his shoulders and hair still damp, and pauses to consider his Master’s figure.

“Are you still up for cooking dinner tonight?”

“I think it’s better to postpone it. I was sent halfway across Coruscant today for something that didn’t work out, and I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Obi-Wan says with a slight groan as he rolls his neck and shoulders. “Would you mind too much eating at the cafeteria tonight?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Anakin shrugs. “Are you okay? You look a little pained.”

“Just a mild headache,” Obi-Wan says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It will fade away soon enough,” he tries to reassure Anakin, but a little too late as his Padawan is already walking to the kitchen with a slight roll of his eyes.

“We have all those meds available, might as well use them,” he says once he gets back, pain meds in one hand a glass of water in the other.

Obi-Wan gives him a wider smile. “Thank you, Anakin.”

“Are we going to the cafeteria now or later?” Anakin asks a few beats later.

“Could it be later, in around twenty minutes? I’d like to finish this report first.”

“Sure thing, I’ll go mess with my room a bit.”

“Do clean your bed, Anakin -- I have no idea how you sleep in that mess,” Obi-Wan says, trying to hide a grin.

It’s a recurring topic and pretty much hopeless at this point, but his Master brings it up from time to time without fail.

“No promises,” Anakin laughs, knowing Obi-Wan will shake his head good-naturedly at his response, and sets out to his room.

He clears the floor of everything that shouldn’t be on it -- clothes, tools, datachips and other things -- because he’s lost count of how many times he’s sat or stepped on a lost screw or pointy tool, or lost an important datachip for his classes amidst the mess.

Once that’s done, Anakin lies down on his bed and spends a few minutes simply breathing and bringing awareness to his own body, trying to gauge how bad the pain will be the next day and which parts of his body he can still push before risking injury.

That last bit is fundamental -- as frustrated as he feels when he’s forced to rest, Anakin knows that getting wounded would set him back _and_ make his Master worry, which in turn might cause him to watch Anakin more closely and end up noticing how hard he truly pushes himself.

He’ll most likely have to focus on his studies for the next week. Some of it is boring, _mind-numbing_ work, but as long as he hands in everything on time and keeps his scores up, Obi-Wan won’t feel the need to check up on him quite so often.

Anakin stands up when his Master knocks on the door and quickly steps out of his room.

“Ready?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Lead the way.”

 

x

 

The following days are filled with pain -- as expected -- but Anakin ignores it and pretends he’s not in near-agony whenever he does so much as get up. He hides his winces and grimaces only by the virtue of _practice,_ and doesn’t give himself away in other ways due to being halfway used to the pain.

He plans a fine-control Force training for the upcoming weekend. It’s going to be aggravating and headache-inducing, but it requires little physical work -- which is a bonus.

Around midweek, Anakin acquires a cough. It’s persistent and consistent, and bothers him no matter what he’s doing. He ends up drinking a lot of water in an attempt to soothe his throat, and later has the idea of using this opportunity to practice using the Force to control biological functions in a living organism: himself.

It helps, but requires too much concentration to start up and maintain, so Anakin adds it to an ever growing list of things to learn.

 

x

 

The weekend arrives with the cough still present. It makes any attempts at concentrating turn into an exercise in futility, and Anakin nearly throws the intricate puzzle box -- the one he had chosen to train on -- at the wall in rage.

A while later, Anakin discovers he’s running a fever. He admits defeat and goes back to the apartment, takes some meds and burrows himself in his blankets to catch a few more hours of sleep.

 

x

 

He self-medicates through the first few days of the week, taking as many meds as he dares and pretending he’s not two seconds from falling asleep at any given moment. Master Obi-Wan notices his sorry state and promptly commands him to bed, bringing him water and cold compresses and fussing over him in a manner that has Anakin smiling despite it all.

“Are you quite certain you shouldn’t be on the medbay, Anakin?”

“ _Yes,_ Master. I’m sure I’ll get better with some more sleep and your fretting,” Anakin replies with a chuckle that’s quickly replaced by a coughing fit.

“Oh, shush,” Obi-Wan says with a small smile. He sits on the edge of the bed, body turned to his padawan, and studies him with concern and a hint of sadness clear on his features.

Anakin lets him gather his thoughts in peace, hoping that Obi-Wan speaks before sleep sinks its claws too deep on Anakin’s own consciousness.

“I know you’ve been pushing yourself a little too vigorously on your training, padawan. You may try to hide it from me, but I see it in your eyes and on your body, and the other masters talk as well. I do not understand why you feel the drive to train quite so hard, and I won’t pry if you wish to keep it a secret, but I do worry, you know,” he says finally, turning the atmosphere somewhat more somber and serious.

Anakin looks at his hands clutching the covers, feeling shame curl through his senses and near-subconsciously erecting some more shields between his mind and the outside world. He feels properly chastised, like a kid caught with his hand on the cookie jar; all the while, in the back of his head, a little voice starts up saying that he has to hide it _better_ from now on.

Obi-Wan sighs, shoulders curling in, and a stab of guilt goes through Anakin. “I only ask that you be more mindful and considerate of your own limitations. As much as the others around the Temple sometimes regard you as some legend, as something _other,_ you still have a human body that requires _rest._ Can you at least promise to me that you’ll be kinder with yourself?”

Anakin mulls over it, eyes still fixed on his hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the galaxy. Obi-Wan says nothing else, so Anakin admits defeat.

“I will try.”

His Master sighs again, turning his head away for a moment, and Anakin catches a whisper of ‘ _oh, padawan_ ’ before Obi-Wan turns back to him. “I suppose we’ll have to settle for that, then. I _will_ hold you to it, Anakin.”

Anakin nods and raises his eyes as Obi-Wan stands up.

“I’ll let you sleep now. Do not hesitate to call me if you need anything, alright?”

Anakin nods again, and Obi-Wan exits the room, turning off the lights and leaving the door half-open.

 

x

 

Anakin wakes up a little less overall miserable, but his chest hurts with every inhale. He smiles and tells Obi-Wan he’s _really_ better and there’s no need for him to miss today’s classes, so adamant in it that his Master can do little else but frown at Anakin as he exits the apartment.

His chests rattles with every breath for a good portion of the afternoon and he coughs a fair amount, but it annoys him more than anything. It’s the fever, pain and haziness that truly bother him. His last instructor orders him to go back home after a nasty coughing fit in which Anakin could hardly breathe, or else he’d personally accompany Anakin to the medbay.

He gets to the apartment, takes the fever meds and lies down for a bout of fitful sleep -- he faintly remembers his Master coming in at some point, putting a cold hand on his forehead and letting out a soft sigh. When Anakin wakes up in the middle of the night, body refusing to fall back asleep, he gets up on unsteady legs and stumbles to the ‘fresher.

He looks _awful,_ but that’s no surprise; his skin is pale, he can’t breathe through his nose and his chest is rattling again. Anakin splashes some water on his face and stares at his reflection some more, feeling a fit coming and trying to stop it before it can happen.

It fails, predictably, and thus he clutches, white-knuckled at the sink for all its duration. Some mucus gathers at his mouth at the last few coughs, which he quickly spits in disgust.

He opens his eyes just barely in time to catch a glimpse of red as it goes down the drain. It’s a _very_ successful wake-up call, and Anakin stares at where it had been with wide eyes and all the accumulated worry he had ignored hitting him like a freight train.

_Was that blood? Actual blood or just the mucus? Kriff, this is really bad…_

Anakin takes in a sharp breath, fear growing, but the action irritates his already sensitive airways and spawns another fit. It refuses to be repressed, and goes on for so long that Anakin begins to feel light-headed.

When it finally ends, his body decides he’s abused it long enough, and passes out.

 

x

 

Obi-Wan was truly worried about his padawan. As much as Anakin tried to brush it off, that cough sounded _awful,_ and he was willing to bet that there were other symptoms being hidden or ignored altogether.

Around two in the morning, Obi-Wan picks up the sound of Anakin entering the fresher. He had suspected that his padawan would end up waking at such a time after seeing him sleeping before dusk, and thus had settled in with a datapad to read some books that had captured his attention -- insisting on being awake in case his charge needed help. He could sacrifice some sleep in order to guarantee that Anakin would be well-cared for.

It turns out to have been a sensible decision when he hears an alarming _thud_ through the wall his room shared with the fresher. Obi-Wan jumps up and immediately reaches out in the Force to Anakin. When he perceives nothing but nebulous basal thoughts, without a wisp of consciousness in them, he rushes out of the room and into the fresher to find his padawan collapsed near the sink.

Obi-Wan performs a quick check of Anakin’s vitals, noting his shallow breathing and worrying temperature as he takes out his comm.

“Knight Kenobi to Healer’s Ward -- I need a stretcher brought to my quarters immediately,” he says into it, voice surprisingly even.

“Copy that,” the attending droid responds. “What is the emergency?”

“Padawan Skywalker has collapsed unexpectedly after a coughing fit. He has a high fever and seems to have trouble breathing, but his vitals are otherwise steady,” he says, knowing the droid will pull the needed patient files to check for any known allergies to best tailor the kit for treatment.

“A stretcher has been dispatched, ETA three minutes. It is recommended to refrain from moving the patient needlessly.”

“Understood.”

With that, the call goes into standby -- in case there is a new development to be communicated before the medbot arrives. Obi-Wan sits properly on the floor, eyes never leaving his padawan, and takes one of Anakin’s hands onto his own.

“Oh, Anakin, why must you do such things to yourself?”

The stretcher arrives on time, with a medbot trailing after it. Obi-Wan sets aside and lets it do its work -- the droid scans Anakin and then carefully injects something on his arm.

“Patient shows no sign of injury due to his collapse. You may put him on the stretcher yourself, if you wish.”

Obi-Wan nods and immediately sets to it, scooping Anakin carefully and righting him on the stretcher which quietly hovers just outside the fresher.

“Do you have any guesses as to what he has?” Obi-Wan asks when they leave the apartment, accompanying the brisk pace the droid sets.

“More careful testing must be done before there are any conclusions, but his lungs are quite damaged and his temperature is alarming. How long ago did the patient start showing symptoms?”

“Six to eight days ago.”

“The severity of the illness is most likely due to the delay in seeking medical aid. It will be more taxing to treat it now than it would have been a few days ago.”

“Will it leave any long-lasting consequences?”

“Improbable. Depending on the cause and the extent of the damage to the lungs, it may take weeks or even a few months for them to go back to their normal, however.”

Obi-Wan nods absently and goes back to watching Anakin’s chest -- barely moving, but still showing improvement from when Obi-Wan had first found him -- taking a moment to send a prayer to the Force wishing for Anakin’s full recovery.

 

x

 

The first few hours at the Healer’s Ward are terrible for Obi-Wan’s nerves. The Temple is quiet, since most of its inhabitants are asleep at such a time; the ward itself stays fairly active however, with healers and medbots walking from side to side, checking on patients and treating the rare newcomers.

Obi-Wan stays in a waiting room as they conduct their tests on Anakin and work to stabilize his condition. The atmosphere of the room welcomes his worry with open arms, used to it; the feeling sticks to chairs and the walls, left by the countless others that were once in his same situation. But there’s slivers of _hope_ as well, permeating the corners and crevices of the room, balancing out the worry, and that makes staying there bearable.

Two hours after their arrival, a healer accompanies him to the small room Anakin resides, and allows him to sit by his padawan’s bedside.

“We have given him broadscope antibiotics to see how he responds as well as to lower his fever. He is unlikely to stay awake for more than a couple minutes at a time, and will be delirious when conscious. We’re also working to discover what exactly is causing his symptoms to treat it more accurately.”

“Is there any estimatives for how long treatment will take?”

“I’d say around a month. We suspect it’s pneumonia, and if it is, the cough and fatigue will linger for some time. Plus, due to lungs being delicate organs, we need to be more careful when treating it.”

“I see… So Anakin will have to stay here at the ward for a while, correct?”

“That would be recommended, yes,” the healer nods and slows to a stop as they reach Anakin’s cot. “If you notice anything strange, please notify us. You may interact with him through your training bond if you wish, but I ask you to keep it more subdued so that he can rest properly.”

Obi-Wan nods and sits at the cushioned chair by the bed. After taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and reaches for his bond with Anakin, opening his end to send comfort and warmth to his padawan.

Once that’s done, Obi-Wan settles further into the chair and, with their bond still open, studies Anakin’s state -- he’s still pale and there’s an oxygen mask strapped to his face; the panel on the wall above the headrest beeps steadily with each heartbeat, proof of his continued living.

He is lulled to sleep by the sound an unknown amount of time later.

 

x

 

It’s well into morning when Obi-Wan finally snaps back awake, body sore and feeling generally uncomfortable. Tiredness manifests as a growing headache and a physical weight on his shoulders that doesn’t diminish no matter how much he tries to alleviate it.

He stands up and exits the room after giving Anakin a quick once-over to satisfy his own worry, looking for a fresher and some caf to keep him awake.

When he returns, Obi-Wan finds another healer changing some of Anakin’s IVs. She smiles when she notices him, prompting Obi-Wan to give a very weak smile in return.

“Morning,” she says, voice light but quiet. “I hope your sleep wasn’t too bad -- though comfortable, those chairs really aren’t made for sleeping.”

Obi-Wan chuckles with a tad of bashfulness, catching the faint reproval in her tone. She smiles again immediately after it, so he knows she isn’t mad -- by now she must be used to this situation, most likely.

“It wasn’t the worst sleep I’ve had, but it did have its consequences.”

“Well, I’ll have to insist on you going back to your own apartment today, and don’t think I won’t enforce it -- or have someone else do it for me. You’ll be no help to him if you get sick as well.”

Obi-Wan stays silent, eyes fixed on Anakin, but he hears her sigh.

“The imaging results have come through, by the way,” she starts, making him turn to her immediately. “He has a severe case of bacterial pneumonia.”

Obi-Wan winces.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It wouldn’t be that a big deal to treat if we had discovered it earlier, but now it’s… a delicate matter, to say the least.”

“What happens now?”

“We’re administering some meds already and they’ll improve his condition, but we’re still investigating the cause. Anything you can tell us about that?”

Obi-Wan pauses to think it through. “He has been pushing himself past his own limits. In regards to training, I mean; he’s one of the first to arrive and last to leave, and has also maintained a pretty high score on theoretical courses. It wasn’t this bad a couple months ago, but I notice him getting worse about it, so I had been meaning to talk with him…”

She hums. “Has he visited anywhere new lately? Or had contact with new people?”

“Not outside the Temple. These weeks have been busy for him, study-wise, and I’ve been given quite a few smaller tasks around Coruscant, but haven’t had the chance to take him with me.”

“Alright then, I’ll pass this on,” she says and turns to leave. “Oh, and please go to the cafeteria at some point, to get actual food. If you didn’t know this already, we here at the ward do not tolerate self-neglecting behavior,” she says with a smile but a somewhat threatening tone, right before she leaves.

Obi-Wan tries to ignore the shiver of fear that goes down his spine. He knows the rumors to be right, after all: the healers are all ruthless when provoked.

 

x

 

Anakin stays mostly unconscious for another three days. When the fever finally breaks, a healer comes to perform a check-up. Obi-Wan stands off to the side as he gives his padawan strict instructions to move as little as possible and breathe carefully, and warn Obi-Wan not to agitate him too much.

After he leaves, silence takes ahold of the small room. Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, and Anakin is still groggy. His padawan had carefully erected more shields once he was conscious enough to do so, and as much as Obi-Wan tried to throw the feeling aside, it stung.

“How long have I been out?” Anakin asks, finally breaking the silence. His voice is quiet, throat sensitive from the disease and disuse.

“Three days, give or take,” Obi-Wan says, equally soft.

Anakin’s hands clutch into fists and his brow furrows deep, but his mouth stays shut. Obi-Wan tries to push down the frustration that is taking the place previously occupied by his worry.

“They said it earlier, but I wasn’t entirely awake yet -- what did I have? Or what _do_ I have, I guess.”

“A severe case of pneumonia.”

“Oh,” Anakin exhales, eyes fixed on the flimsy blanket still covering his legs.

Obi-Wan brushes against Anakin’s mental shields, trying to read his current state, but he can only recognize faint signs of frustration and something that feels a little like _despair._

_Well, at least he hasn’t reacted badly to my attempt at contact…_

The previous annoyance Obi-Wan felt is washed away by sadness, leaving him with curved shoulders, sitting on a chair that he has gotten quite well-acquainted with in the past three days. He is _tired_ of this, but the healers have warned him to keep Anakin calm _,_ so their talk will have to wait; Obi-Wan doesn’t think they’ll be able to do it without getting riled up, anyhow.

He sighs and lowers his head, missing the look Anakin shoots his way.

“Is there anything you’d like for me to bring you?”

“Would ‘something to tinker with’ be a valid answer?” Anakin asks, trying for a sheepish grin that Obi-Wan is too drained to return.

“I’ll see what I can do, but I make no promises,” Obi-Wan responds. “You should rest for awhile longer, Anakin. It would help with your recovery,” he adds a few seconds later.

Obi-Wan sees Anakin frown and open his mouth to argue -- can even hear the arguments already, the ‘ _but I’ve been asleep long enough!_ ’ and similars -- but then his padawan looks at him and closes his mouth.

It’s a bit disorienting -- a change in their usual script; their daily banter. It serves as a reminder that Anakin must be feeling as frustrated as Obi-Wan with the situation they’re in. And as if that wasn’t enough, he’s still _sick;_ pale and weak, with a nasal cannula hooked to his ears and half-opened eyes. Obi-Wan has the impression that if Anakin’s back wasn’t in contact with the bed, he would be swaying in place.

The vision hurts him, softens him. Obi-Wan does his best to provide a smile, but the only thing he can manage is a quirk of lips; Anakin catches it however, and his expression lights up as a result.

 _He needs my support,_ Obi-Wan tells himself as harshly as he can for it to _stick_ to his brain.

He gets up to help when Anakin tries to rearrange himself gingerly on the medical bed. Once his padawan is comfortable, Obi-Wan smooths out the blanket and passes a hand through Anakin’s short hair soothingly, waiting until he closes his eyes to go back to the chair.

His query for the healers can wait ‘til later. Right now, Obi-Wan needs to reassure himself that his padawan is _alive_ and _getting better._

 

x

 

Recovery is… difficult. Anakin has never done well with being still; he’s a restless individual who needs to be always moving, tinkering, _doing_ something. His life has been pretty much structured around that: he performs moving meditation and always has something at hand when studying or when in classes.

As a direct result, the inability to move as easily as he is used to and the ward’s rules make for a particularly trying week as Anakin receives the more intensive part of the treatment. And with Anakin about to climb the _walls_ with his boredom, he ends up making Obi-Wan prone to do the same.

By the time the second week comes around, Anakin already looks healthier. His skin has lost most of its sickly pallor and he has a bit more freedom of movement, though he still tires fairly fast and gets chest pains if he overdoes it.

Obi-Wan had arranged for all his current assignments to be given to others and concluded the hand-offs in the first week, which leaves him free to look after his padawan. He _talks_ as a way of distracting Anakin; tells stories about his apprenticeship under Qui-Gon, of some childhood memories he still has and things he sees around the Temple that he never thought interesting enough to tell Anakin before.

It works, for the most time. Anakin is always curious to learn more about Obi-Wan’s past, and the stories end up occupying his mind by making him imagine the scenarios that are being shared. Obi-Wan tries to stick to the light-hearted tales, not wanting to distress Anakin with the darker ones.

Anakin shares some memories of Tatooine in exchange, talking about his mother and the companions he had on the planet; about the moments in which they could play without needing to work for their owners. His voice is even, but he finds a loose thread on the blanket covering him and starts to pull on it, and that tells Obi-Wan enough about how he’s feeling.

So Obi-Wan listens carefully and gives Anakin his full attention, meeting his padawan’s gaze every time he lifts his eyes to look at him, and distracts him some more after he’s done.

Illness and restlessness aside, they have _some_ fun. With their schedules, there isn’t always time for them to sit down and talk like this; there’s always a mission or a class or training to focus on, and their thrice-a-week sessions leave no room for such things.

That doesn’t mean that Obi-Wan’s frustration has been eradicated, however. It insists on hanging around at the back of his head, and he can’t help but try to figure out the _reason_ for Anakin’s determination to train until he drops. Sadly, he can’t think of a _plausible_ one, which adds to his dissatisfaction.

It hovers between them when the silences are too long, leaving Anakin with a lowered head and the blanket with quite a few less threads. One day, they won’t be able to set those feelings aside in favor of something else; one day, it will be too much for them to avoid.

Obi-Wan knows it will happen sooner or later. All he’s got to do is wait for the right moment -- in which Anakin will truly listen to him, instead of just ignoring his words.

Then, they can resolve this.

 

x

 

Obi-Wan decides they've avoided the topic long enough in the evening of Anakin's last day at the ward. They'll be going back to their apartment the next day -- his padawan's graver symptoms are long gone, though the fatigue and shortness of breath remains, as it tends to do in pneumonia cases.

Anakin has been taking short walks around the ward for around a week by then, with the healers' approval and supervision. Getting his stamina back was a work in progress, but Anakin was still seventeen and thus able to bounce back at a faster rate than most. The walks helped with his cabin fever, too.

It had been nearly an hour since Anakin had returned to the bed. His breathing was back to being steady and he was simply resting with his eyes closed.

 _It's now or never,_ Obi-Wan thinks. _He will be able to escape this talk much more easily in our apartment. I must do it now._

Still, the words get stuck in his throat; they've been putting it off for so long that it's strange to address it, to finally point to the bantha in the room. Obi-Wan wants to retreat, but he _can't_ \-- if he says nothing, it is likely that Anakin will not change his ways, and who knows what injury or illness could come next?

So he ponders how to approach it. It's best that he starts gentle, careful, so as to not spook Anakin or make him react negatively right off the bat, but Obi-Wan has no idea how it might progress from then on.

"Anakin," he starts, voice low but resolute. His padawan opens his eyes to look at him with a frown and a wordless question. "I understand that you don't want to talk about this, but I am worried about you and I feel that it's necessary."

Anakin's face goes blank and he sits straighter, breathing a little faster than he had been seconds ago. He finds a patch of wall to stare at, keeping his eyes fixed on it, and Obi-Wan can already feel Anakin slipping through his fingers.

"Anakin, please, listen to me. I know I said I wouldn't pry, but you- you caught _pneumonia_ , Anakin. You have no idea what it was like, to run to the fresher and see you collapsed on the floor, unconscious. I fear for what may happen in the future, if this overexerting of yours continues."

Anakin's only reaction is to press his mouth into a line and start fiddling with the blanket. Obi-Wan swallows back a sigh.

"Padawan, I only wish to understand what's happening with you. This is not _healthy_ , and I want to help you before something worse happens," Obi-Wan tries, with desperation starting to color his voice.

His pleas might as well have been spoken to a durasteel wall, however, with the way Anakin responds to them. Obi-Wan feels himself fray at the edges, his worry and tiredness and desperation combining into a drop of _frustration_ , one that curls deep under his breast bone and makes his voice more forceful than he wants it to be.

" _Force's sake_ , padawan, couldn't you at least _try_ to answer? What sort of reason could motivate you to do this to yourself, Anakin? You are such a bright student and _person_ \-- I can't even imagine how you reached the conclusion that this was something to be done, this- this absolute disregard of your own wellbeing. And for _what_ , Anakin? I've thought on this for weeks, but I haven't been able to come up with even _one_ reasoning I can truly believe."

Anakin curls the hand resting on the blanket into a fist, and his mouth tightens even further. Obi-Wan wants to huff in anger, but refrains.

“Still no answer? Well, I’ll share the motives I’ve come up with, then,” he says, trying to shove his anger behind a veneer of collectedness. “The first reason I thought about was a desire to prove yourself, somehow. Maybe you resented or still resent the way the other initiates and padawans treated you back then, and the wide berth most give you to this day. In showing that you are _strong, better_ than them, it might make them feel envious, or ashamed by the way they acted, once they realize that you’ll be greater than them. But while that could be a valid reasoning in the viewpoint of many others, I’d at least _like_ to believe I know you better than that -- I could see that their behaviour upset you in the beginning, yes. You moved into ignoring them not too long after that however, and I don’t think you care enough about them now for that to be the truth.

“That line of thought led me to wonder if you felt _lonely_ instead, and wanted to impress them; make them admire you and want to befriend you. But I can’t bring myself to accept this one either, for the same reason I discarded the previous. You’ve chosen to stay home over going out plenty of times as well, when you could have used those outings to make friends.

“And the last one is… one that I have no evidence to sufficiently refute, and something that has haunted my mind for a while. Maybe, instead of all that, you just want to get away from me. Prove that you are strong and ready for your Trials, ready to be knighted. Hoping that maybe the Council will really do it -- I mean, they’ve already broken their own rules for you once before, haven’t they? Why couldn’t they do so again?”

Obi-Wan looks up from the floor -- from where he had redirected his eyes while saying the last part -- the thought of somehow seeing it confirmed in Anakin’s expression making him unable to keep the steady gaze he had maintained for all the rest.

What he sees throws him on a loop. Anakin’s face is the picture of incredulity: mouth half open in shock, a slight frown and a _‘what the kriff’_ clear in his eyes. As Obi-Wan watches, his padawan sputters and tries to find words, making him curious to know what finally set him off.

“ _H--_ ” Anakin tries, but cuts himself off to shake his head, utterly incensed. “ _How_ can you not see it? _How_ in the seven Sith hells can you think so--” he stops, nearly growling in rage -- “kriffing _little_ of yourself?"

Obi-Wan stares at him, baffled beyond belief, trying to work out how their situation took that particular turn. Anakin stares right back with clear irritation.

“I don’t understand,” Obi-Wan starts, tentative, inflection almost making it a question. “Why is that important to this conversation?”

“ _Because--!_ I just want to make you proud!”

Obi-Wan is stunned into silence, mouth open in shock and whole body frozen.

“All the training, all the studying -- they were just because _I want to make you proud of me._ ”

“Anakin--”

“But that would never go through your head! You’d never even _consider_ it, and it makes me _mad_ , because you’re incredible and yet you don’t see yourself as such!”

Obi-Wan utilizes the few precious seconds in which Anakin recovers from his outburst to shove the shock deep inside a box and throw it away. Such a reaction won’t help them any -- if he reacts badly to this, it could make Anakin unwilling to reveal his troubles in the future. He needs to maintain a clear head and choose his words carefully.

“Anakin, you… you don’t need to go to such lengths so that I’ll be proud of you, because I _already am_.”

His padawan wipes his eyes harshly, hastily, and it’s clear that he is unconvinced. Obi-Wan isn’t surprised -- this issue appears to run much deeper than he first thought, and he knows now that it isn’t something to be resolved or fixed with just a single conversation. Still, he wants to make some impact, even if small; he wants Anakin to believe what he’s saying, even if just for a moment.

“I know it will be difficult to make you see that, but it’s the truth. You are _luminous_ ; a student many teachers would love to have, always so eager to learn new things. You can be hardheaded and considerably stubborn, yes, but that’s simply part of who you are. It doesn’t make me any less honored to have you as my padawan.”

Anakin messes with the blanket and chews on his lip, and Obi-Wan can see that it’s getting harder for him to hold back the tears that want to overflow. As a consequence, he lowers his voice further, reaching out to Anakin through their training bond to make sure the message is received.

“This manner of thinking will only bring you grief, because it will never be satisfied no matter how many times I tell you that I am, in fact, proud of you. And I care for you too much to simply stand by your side while you deteriorate. However, unless you accept that you do need help, there will be nothing that I can do for you, Anakin.”

“I don’t think I can stop being like this,” Anakin whispers, so low and distressed that the sound tugs directly on Obi-Wan’s heartstrings.

"You _can_. It will be difficult and taxing, and it will feel like you're making no real progress most of the time. But it _is_ possible, padawan. You need only try, with the right people there to help you," Obi-Wan says, still soft.

“But where and how could I start? How do I get better from something like this?”

“It would involve quite a bit of therapy, for starters; which is why knowing that you need the help, and wanting it, is so important. The problems of our minds -- our brains -- are rarely fixed as easily as our physical wounds. They require our active effort to be successful; it isn’t as simple as doing a few rounds of bacta or following a healer’s orders.”

Anakin says nothing for some time, though his hands don’t stop fiddling with the blanket. Obi-Wan lets his padawan process everything that has been said in his own time, content to simply maintaining his hold on their bond as continued reassurance.

“If… if I try to get better, you will help me, right?” Anakin says finally, with a vulnerable and open expression, even as hesitance still clings to the edge of his mind, to his end of their bond.

Obi-Wan smiles, slow and tender. “Of course, padawan. In any way I am able to.”

Anakin nods, and silence fills the room once more. It’s a great deal _lighter_ than it had been before -- free of all the avoidance and worry and frustration that had tainted it. This silence is calmer and has a dash of _optimism_ , of healing; so much that it reminds Obi-Wan of the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

“Master?” Anakin calls, and Obi-Wan hums to show he is listening. “I… I promise I’ll be kinder to myself.”

Obi-Wan is confused only for a fraction of a second, before he remembers the conversation they had had nearly a month before. Connecting the dots, he makes no effort to hide his beaming grin, or the rush of happiness that flows from his presence to Anakin’s at hearing those words.

“I am very glad to hear that, padawan.”

Anakin smiles, small but hopeful; pleased.

Obi-Wan commits this moment to memory and starts to craft a plan of action. It’s a first step towards something better; they will come through -- stronger and closer for it, in due time.


End file.
